Bel Mondo
by Esmara
Summary: She was a bird with clipped wings, trying her best to be happy as they slowly grew back. She was pulled from her cover of shadows when she opened a box, and into a new world, a beautiful world. (Don't expect too much fluff until much later.) Kooza-verse... kinda.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Box

The girl in the old and ratty gray hat that covered the top half of her face dipped her mop into the bucket of water mixed with soap (and the slightest bit of lemon juice for freshness) and splashed it on the ground, whistling the tune of "Pokinoi" while she worked around the various props that had yet to be moved from the stadium stage. There was silence as she worked, save her whistling and the sound of suds being scrubbed across the stage floor, bubbles popping at her ankles and soaking into the old janitorial uniform. Backstage she heard the buzz of the performers and the artists who brought the stage to life, running back and forth and rehearsing for the next day's performances. The lights that remained on the stage did not follow her while she switched from mopping to wiping up the excess water and progressing to waxing – instead, they all focused on a large box, sitting near the center of the stage, while the rest seemed to arbitrarily circle the thing, almost as if in reverence.

This was the world behind KOOZA, the method behind the madness. The girl was 22 and had never known anything else in her young life beyond the makeup and elaborate choreography of Cirque du Soleil, the special magic that she longed to be a part of. For now, she was content to help create it, caring for the tent's stage wherever they went, tending to the props, shining the jewelry and keeping the costumes in top shape. She liked to think that she was an invisible but necessary piece of KOOZA – it was the performers who brought the show to life, but it was she who ensured that they had a stage and tools to perform with.

Oh, but to dance on the trapeze and glide through the air on a ribbon, to balance on a tower of stairs or soar while hanging by a single rope – she would look up at the props and sigh as she longed to grab onto one and jump off the ground, just for a second, and fly.

She walked back to the cart that held the bucket, and her knee stiffened as she struggled to bend and set the mop down. She glanced down at her leg brace, and sighed, the back of her mind going back a year, to the day she'd crossed the street a second too soon and looked up to see a driver with bloodshot eyes before the world went black, when she'd woken up in a hospital room to see her coach and a doctor with a clipboard telling her she would take at least three years of recovery before she could hope to join the others, and half a year before she could walk at all. The memory quickly passed, and she slowly rose to her full height again, smoothing out a few creases in her old button-down shirt.

The girl pushed the cart back into the cleaning closet, ignoring the mop when it fell to the ground before she got there – she could get that later - and returned to the stage, scanning everything before she got to putting props back into place, wiping the metal ones with an old washcloth. Normally there were people to help her, but from the sounds backstage she would have bet good money that something had gone wrong backstage and they were trying their best to settle the problem quickly. It didn't matter to her – she enjoyed being alone with the props, the tools to create the whimsical KOOZA. If she could, she would have skipped and spun around as she worked, taking up chairs and pretend to stack them into a magnificent tower or mimed a dance with the mysterious and whimsical Trickster, imagining herself dressed in scarlet as his trapeze girl or some fanciful princess in an elaborate gown. As it was, she whistled, pulling down on her hat to keep a few gnats that had gotten in from mistaking her short and unkempt brown hair bleached straw-yellow at the tips for a batch of short twigs and trying to nest.

She finished the tune, and moved on to humming an old children's song, "Say, Say oh Playmate." She cleared all of the extra things away, passing the big box one, two, three times as she quietly limped about. Finally, everything else was taken care of, and she turned to the box, groaning before she began to push the thing back into place. It put up more resistance than it should have, and after twenty seconds of pushing and leaning forward to get some sort of progress, her legs gave up and she fell to her knees, slumping down next to it and glaring up at the giant prop. A moment later, she pulled herself up, and stared at the box for a fleeting second. Then, suspecting somebody had decided to be funny – it wouldn't have been the first time – and put something large like a chair inside it, she lifted the lid, and had to cover eyes as colorful light poured out and swallowed the inside of the tent.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Trickster

The light faded, and she blinked a couple of times as her eyes readjusted. Her head was throbbing, and she shook it as the last traces and swirls of color left the corners of her vision. She frowned as she tried to understand what had just happened, and looked back in the box.

It was empty.

She stepped back from the box, and looked around in confusion. Everything seemed to be in place, and she didn't feel any different from before she had been temporarily blinded. What, then, had that been about?

There was a light tap on her shoulder, and she turned her head to find a pair of iris-less eyes looking into her own, and a wry smirk growing on a painted face. She stared at the blue-and-orange clad Trickster, who stepped back and spun once, took another step back. She turned completely to face him, brow furrowed as he bowed slightly held a hand out and curled his fingers into his palm, beckoning her forward. She stepped towards him, holding her hand out to his own outstretched one, and his fingers curled around her bent fingertips. He pulled her hand to his face, and for a split second she felt his lips brush her knuckles before he released her hand. She pulled it back, looking at it before turning to face him again. He walked around her over to the box, and pushed it for a step before sliding it to the wall. He then turned to face her again, still smiling – or maybe he was sneering, it was hard to tell.

The backstage door opened.

"Hey, is everything okay back here?" The manager looked around. "I thought I heard something."

"Oh…" she glanced around – the Trickster was gone from sight. "Yeah… thought I saw something."

"Hm." He looked around, then back at her. "Are you coming for dinner? That boy Angelo's been asking about you for a while now." She shook her head. "If you say so. Sure you're okay in here?"

"I'm fine," she smiled, "just need to clean up a couple more things. I'll be out later, okay?" He nodded, and started to pull the door shut, and her eyes widened as she saw the Trickster standing behind the door. He opened it again.

"What? Did you see something?" The manager frowned.

"No… just a shadow," she responded, and he shut the door. The Trickster stepped forward as soon as the sound of footsteps faded, and casually tossed something in the air and caught it again. His magic wand.

The girl stepped back, eying the silver staff warily as he casually flipped it in his hand. He smirked, and flicked the wand in her direction once. She frowned when nothing seemed to happen, and looked around in confusion. His smirk widened, and he tilted his head down, then back up. She furrowed her brow, but looked down – and if she had been able to jump, she would have.

Her uniform was gone, replaced with a purple, sleeveless knee-length dress, accented with gold patterns and a thick white belt set at her waist. The belt too was decorated by spirals sewn in gold-colored thread, a simple buckle holding it on her at her front. She looked further down and saw she had white stockings – and her leg brace was white, too! – under black boots adorned with purple and gold spirals, and her hands were now clad in white gloves, one elbow-length and the other shoulder-length, the edges lined with yellow beads. She gaped at the outfit as the Trickster strode over and plucked the hat off of her head, using his wand to turn it inside out and hand it back to her. It looked good as new, now adorned with black and silver horizontal zigzags and a black ribbon tied around it, finished with a small bow pinned with a black and silver spiral. She slowly put it back on her head and over her eyes, but the Trickster's wand flipped it up so that the top of her face was visible, along with a few stray bangs in front of her eyes. She cautiously turned – she noted she still couldn't walk properly – and inspected the outfit before looking at him again.

He had walked away, and she quietly watched as he stepped from cleaned prop to prop, stopping in front of the box, lifting the lid, letting colorful smoke pour out. She started to walk over, and he turned his head, eyes locking with hers. He smiled, and twirled the wand again once. She looked at it, and then at him as he tapped the edge of the box with it once. The smoke swelled, and filled the darkness of the stage, forcing her to shut her eyes again and cover her mouth as it overwhelmed her.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Moonlight

She coughed as the smoke cleared, gasping for fresh air that quickly filled her lungs like pouring water. She was doubled over, hand clasped over her mouth, knees knocked together – an impressive feat at this point, she noted. She opened her eyes, and found herself surrounded by color – towers and buildings built from mechanical pieces of every color, structures with moving walls as gears clicked together and opened doors, slid windows up, tilted watering cans to sprinkle starburst flowers. She straightened up, and looked up and around at the menagerie of vibrant flags and flowers that had somehow grown in vines onto the shifting gears, toy planes in scarlet and vermillion soaring through the sky, brightly-decorated birds in rotating nest atop the towers. Even the moon rising above the buildings was a bright sphere of yellows and shimmering shades of silvery-white, and gave off enough light for one to mistake it for a small sun.

As her eyes adjusted to the sheer _brightness _of the whole world, she saw something move in the corner of her eye, and turned to face the Trickster. He was beckoning to her, standing at the beginning of a path of pale blue and green stones. She walked over to him, and followed his hand with her eyes as he gestured towards the town center. She looked, and her eyes travelled to the large clock tower she hadn't realized she'd been standing in front of, just as the hour hand struck nine.

The chimes of the tower rang light and cheerful in the crisp evening air, and every single gear on every building suddenly stopped for a second. Then, in unison, they began working backwards, and as they did windows all shut and the watering cans stopped sprinkling the plants, and just as everything had been bright reds and greens and purples before, the colors of everything the gears worked changed into violets and deep blues and glowing ultramarines, while tiny streaks of shimmering gold and warm whites sprawled and spiraled around them like shooting stars. The clock tower itself was now the color of the night sky, and a phoenix made of starlight stretched its wings along the height of the structure, head tilted up and beak open in unheard song. The actual birds, now all plumed with white, lifted off from the tops and ledges of buildings and soared off into the sky, and in their place tiny fireflies leaving trails of fine stardust in their paths filled the air above the two figures standing on the road.

"What's going on?" She whispered to the Trickster, who simply gestured to the doors of the buildings.

The doors opened.

The girl was frozen to the spot as figures of every size and shape stepped out from the towers and apartments and into the streets, couples of either men or women or both joining arms and walking down different paths, calmly and happily. Some pulled umbrellas open and held them over their heads, the stardust in the air catching on the tops and making them shimmer. Their faces were all painted with different shapes and patterns, and their skin and hair were pale or dark or bright or purple or anything else that was a color, and they were all dressed in dark blue and purple clothes that were decorated with feathers or patterned like butterfly wings. Some laughed as they went their ways, some cried, but none actually spoke. After a few minutes most of them had left the town circle and gone down one of the roads, but some sat on benches and looked at the sky, while others – children – began to color the surprisingly gray pavement bordered by all of the colorful paths with brightly-hued chalk. Others played with toys, bouncing large rubber balls back and forth to each other and jumping over and balancing on top of them, while others still played tag and climbed up gears to get away from each other, easily landing from large heights and getting back into their games.

The girl was staring in a trance-like state, and blinked in surprise when the Trickster snapped his fingers in front of her face. She shook her head, and looked around again before looking at the Trickster. He was looking at her with a bemused, slightly curious expression, and he gently placed a hand on her back, pushing her forward. She looked at the remaining people, then back at him, and he nodded.

"…Okay." She quietly walked back into the circle, and looked around, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the powerful quiet that blanketed the area. A couple of people looked up, but nobody made a move to approach her as she looked around. She felt a lump in her throat. What did he expect her to do, stand around like an awkward statue?

She didn't see the Trickster glance at a child who looked to be about 10 or 11 drawing with chalk, ball tucked under her arm, and slightly flick his wand. The ball fell out of the child's arm and bounced over, stopping when it bumped against her leg. She looked down and picked it up, and faced the child, who ran over to her. She handed it back, and the child took it, looking at the girl with a furrowed brow before cautiously holding out a hand, which the girl shook with a small smile. The child eyed her for a moment, before the suspicion faded and she smiled back, and the older girl saw her canines were sharpened into tiny fangs.

The child bent down and put her piece of chalk to the ground, writing "the Peculiar" in white. The older girl stared for a moment, and the child pointed the word, then at herself. _Oh, _she thought, _that's just like the Innocent or the Pickpocket. She's the Peculiar. _She smiled at the Peculiar, who smiled back and held up the piece of chalk. The older girl hesitated for a moment before slowly lowering herself on her good knee, keeping the weaker one out and to the side as she did, and wrote her own name on the ground. The Peculiar furrowed her brow, and took the chalk back, beginning to write a "the" before it, but the older girl put a hand in front of the beginning of a "T" and shook her head. The Peculiar frowned for a second before slowly nodding and looking back down at the cursive written in white on the ground.

_Lyric._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Peculiar

The girl called the Peculiar was an elf-like child, with slightly pointed ears and oval-shaped eyes that tilted upwards at the outer edges, bright green in color. Her skin was a pale blue-lavender that looked almost white in the moonlight, and her face was painted white, a blue and yellow starburst decorating the skin around her left eye, a shooting star painted shooting up from her chin and around her right cheek, spiraling where it met her inner brow. She was clad in colorful overalls rolled up to her knees over an elbow-length shirt that was white and covered with sewn-in clear sequins. Her messy black hair glittered with the stardust that continued to rain down and kept tickling Lyric's nose. She was barefoot, with only a couple of silver anklets on her right foot, and had two gold-tipped blue feathers tucked into her hair on the left side of her head.

She helped Lyric stand back up, and picked up the ball again, holding it out in front of her. Lyric took it, and bounced it once before throwing it back to the Peculiar. The Peculiar tucked it under her arm, and with her free hand took Lyric's wrist, lightly tugging her and walking towards the path the Trickster was still standing at. Lyric followed her, and glanced at the Trickster as they passed him. He simply smiled, and pointed further down the path. Lyric looked forward, not noticing when he disappeared.

The buildings further down were smaller, and the gears they consisted of moved slower. Even so, they seemed happier and brighter than the ones at the center of the small town, with large flowers of every color blooming around the windows and the centers of each shifting piece. Music swelled in the air, and the Peculiar suddenly pulled Lyric to the sidewalk as a vague shape in the distance grew and became a crowd of people, playing instruments and marching, all clad in blue and gold uniform.

Lyric couldn't look away as the procession came closer, and the sounds of drums and flutes and instruments she'd never seen before walked by in two single-file lines, followed by a group of marchers holding a covered structure above their heads, and behind them, young girls threw flower petals to mark their path. As soon as they passed, the Peculiar tugged on Lyric's skirt, and Lyric looked down.

_The Blue Queen, _she had written on the ground, _she's going to dance in the Town Center. She does every night. _Lyric glanced back down the path, but was met with another insistent tug. She looked back down. _It's nothing special, _the Peculiar had written, _just spinning with ribbons. Let's go, if you're new here you need to know where things are! _She stood back up, and led Lyric further up the road.

The road eventually opened up to a sapphire palace, adorned with gold. Rather than walk in, the younger girl led Lyric to the left of it after she had indicated the sign that said _Royal Palace _on it, and they eventually reached a marketplace after 15 or so minutes. It was bustling with people, all walking or running or back-flipping through the streets. Vendors were selling strange fruits and gorgeous necklaces and dresses that looked like butterfly wings in brilliant colors. There were children playing in the open streets, and dancers seemingly everywhere. Kites soared through the sky, and toys zoomed along the ground and around people's ankles. Rich smells of sweets and pastries and meats cooked in strange spices filled the air. Lyric found herself slowing down each time she saw something that caught her interest, only to be pulled along by the Peculiar, who seemed intent on showing her everything in one fell swoop.

They reached the end of the marketplace, and Lyric glanced back as she was pulled by the child half her age. Just a look couldn't hurt, right? But the younger girl was surprisingly strong, and the marketplace was left behind as they continued down a different road.

Another bout of walking brought them to a park, a large plot of grass with tiny wildflowers in white and yellow sprouting up from the ground. Lyric stopped walking, and the Peculiar tugged again. Lyric shook her head, and gestured to her leg brace.

_I'm tired, _she thought, wiping her brow. _It's hard to keep up with you with my leg like this. _The Peculiar crossed her arms, but plopped down on the grass, lying on her back and throwing the ball over her head, catching it again and throwing it back into the air. Finally it went too far, and as the child ran to retrieve it, Lyric heard footsteps and glanced upwards.

He was clad in white and purple now, in a zig-zag pattern spiraling around his clothes, and his hat split into two long and jagged tails. The Trickster smiled down at her and held out a hand, and she took it and slowly stood back up. He gestured to the Peculiar, who was now making a "follow me" motion with both hands, her foot holding the ball still. Lyric nodded and began to step forward, but stopped when the Trickster tapped her shoulder. She looked at him, brow furrowed.

"Yes?" He smiled, eyelids relaxed, and gestured towards the town, and she looked up. The clock struck ten.


End file.
